


This 'Sun' couldn't be real

by Crayola_Kid



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Original Work
Genre: Abstract, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Altered Mental States, M/M, Mental Health Awareness Writing Challenge, Mental Health Issues, Paranoia, Poor Grantaire, Psychosis, Therapy, based on my own experiences, may very well be triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crayola_Kid/pseuds/Crayola_Kid
Summary: Based on a personal mental health experience.Grantaire isn't sure if he can remember which one of them is ill- Enjolras is acting strangely.





	This 'Sun' couldn't be real

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is a very very short story because I was in a sad mood.
> 
> This is based on a personal experience with psychosis- and even though it only happened to me once and was thankfully very shortlived, the trauma it caused me is long-lasting. As such I'm writing out what I scribbled in a notebook after said event, adjusted to fit Grantaire, because I relate to him when I'm a sad mess like this.
> 
> Please do not take this as a manual for all psychotic events, this is what I recall from it, not to be applied to anyone else yeah cheers
> 
> again, trigger warning in case this genuinley does apply to someone idk sorry y'all imma go cry now thanks

“I’m meant to be the one that’s deluded, honey” Grantaire would whisper at night, into the golden curls that fell even over to his side of the bed.

Enjolras never found it funny.

“R. Please don’t joke about that, you’re doing great right now. Right?” and he’d search Grantaire’s face for anxiety, any hint that things were turning bad again.

Nothing was bad. In fact he’d been good, brilliant even.

Grantaire took his meds every day, or at least nearly every day. He hadn’t had a terrible switch in months, maybe a year now. His doctor told him she was proud of him. Enjolras told him he loved him, every day, or at least nearly every day. 

But every time Grantaire looked at Enjolras he’d see pure mania in his fiery aura. He’d see icarus determined that he could meet the sun halfway. Enjolras was pure _vibrancy._

He hadn’t meant to project himself onto him, but Grantaire couldn’t see it any other way, that Enjolras himself was a part of Grantaire constantly buzzing and fizzing and so eager to learn and fight. 

The thoughts that Enjolras was becoming a part of him, they weren’t delusions, he could recognise how stupid he sounded. He knew his reality, but he felt as though Enjolras held dominion of another.  
Enjolras reminded him of the mania, the fury of it, the high the low of it all, sticking to hospital walls. If he focused on his gray eyes, Grantaire would reach in and pull the memories of it out, gray sweats, prison issued, gray trays, prison issued.

No one else could see, no one could tell who to believe between them, Enjolras’ worried eyes searching his friends’ for answers, his lover, why Grantaire was convinced he was the crazy one. 

__

_“Grantaire- i’m grounded, I’m me, I’m not mad, I’m not. How can you be okay if you see me like that? Help me to understand.”_

And everytime Enjolras spoke to him, reminded him he was real he’d reach out and feel the molten metal surrounding his head, and see if it burned as bright as the sun on his fingertips, or whether Enjolras had been the one to hang it there.


End file.
